Untitled
by i see the spark
Summary: Shared cigarettes, drunk dancing and dreams of going to Las Vegas. That's them, Austin and Ally. No labels attached, no titles given, no nothing. It's just him and her, and an unusual story to tell. Austin&Ally. Auslly. Slight AU.


_Untitled_

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**Summary: **Shared cigarettes, drunk dancing and dreams of going to Las Vegas. That's them, Austin and Ally. No labels attached, no titles given, no nothing. It's just him and her, and an unusual story to tell. Austin&Ally. Auslly. Slight AU.

**Prompt:** This is a result of five million unwritten fanfiction ideas all crammed into one one-shot.

**A/N: **Let's all pray for the victims of the recent explosion in Boston. Those people did not deserve that, and nor do their families and friends deserve to lose a loved one. Also, on a side note related to my other fanfictions, still powering through _27 Dresses_ and all my motivation to write the latest chapter of _Like a Playboy_ have been channeled into this. Tsk tsk. So don't be surprised if there are some similarities, things that are supposed to have been in LAP's latest chapter have been written down here. Idk. I love you all, and enjoy reading :)

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer is applied.

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They fell in love for all the wrong reasons. Never once did they ever get this whole romance thing right.

He was crazy, a boy filled with so much ambition, wasted and drained from all the failed tries, and all the doubts that haunted his mind. And she was innocent, her brown eyes shining with a coffee gleam, seeing things the world refused to acknowledge.

He smokes, one stick, one blow of puff to the air. His eyes hollowed dark, the color of whiskey, and his lips forever a frown. And she sees this, and she tries to save him. But what she didn't know was, the taste of tar and nicotine, stuck to his tongue, and lingering in his every breath, could get so addicting.

So they shared cigarettes one late night, looking up at the stars and wondering, what they ever did that was so right they ended up in each other's presence, and what was so wrong in everything they've done to live life that's lost it's point. But her hand held his tight, the dark blanket above them shining with millions of faint sparkling from the stars, and she breathes out the gray ghost of air, as he lay there not bothering to wonder, if life could do any better.

"We should go to Vegas, one day. Just me and you." He suggests, head slightly turning to glance at her; the way the glow of the moon washed down on her pale skin, and how her eyes looked more like almond than coffee under this shade of light.

"Austin." She whispers his name, the stick of cigarette caught in her free hand, burning bright orange at it's end, and ashes falling shamelessly onto the rooftop's floor.

"A roadtrip from here to there." He grins, his whiskey eyes the color of mischief and excitement.

He took the stick out of her hand, bringing it up to his lips, before sucking in the toxic of it's air, tasting her cherry flavored lipgloss.

"Vegas is a long way from now." She chuckles breathlessly, eyes fluttering close as she takes in the smell of her surroundings. It's damp musty air, and the burning scent coming from his – no, their – cigarette, filled her nostrils.

"You don't know that." He let's out, his grin still intact. "Maybe we'll get there the day after tomorrow, if not tomorrow."

"Or maybe we'll never get there." She counters in banter, playfully smirking at him as her vixen coffee eyes took a quick glance at him.

His blonde hair a mess all over his forehead, his nose unusually big but somewhat perfect for him, and his eyes brown and golden – like the color of whiskey.

"Maybe next month." He goes on, not minding her quick remark, that wide grin of his never fading. "Or next year."

"Who knows when we'll get there?" She shrugs, giving up the play, her eyes back to look at the stars.

"As long as we do."

_**xoxo**_

The next time they do something she thinks is crazy is when they got drunk. So drunk, she's stumbling around all over the place, her high heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor with each clumsy step she took. And he's no better; laughing out loud, tipsy and unable to stand himself up properly, with a lopsided smile curved on his lips.

She offers him a hand, and he gladly takes it, pulling her in for a dance in her dimly lit living room. No music was playing but the silence in the air, and the clicks of her shoes, made for the perfect song.

And then she throws her head back and laughs as he grinned at her, her caramel hair adorned with ombré highlights swaying behind her. His arms around her waist, and his hand gripping tight her little one – and it felt more than right; it felt perfect.

Their dancing was careless. And his face was so close to her, she can smell the faint scent of alcohol in every breath he took. And she can see clearly his face, the detail that's there – the tiny little freckles on the bridge of his nose, that small dot of a birth mark at the corner of his lips.

"I never knew you looked better this up close to me." She let's out a breath, and he just laughs in response. "Your eyes flicker with a little bit of olive green when you're happy."

"You should be a writer." He comments, still holding her close to him, their bodies pressed tight against each other, as he stared down at the way her coffee brown eyes dilated. "You have a knack for making everything sound like it's been pulled out of a romantic novel."

"And you are not good with words." She snips at him, her eyebrows arched up in a daring manner, and her lips curved into a perfect smirk.

He leans in a little bit closer, his lips barely brushing the tip of her ear. And then, in a breathy whisper, his husky voice spoke, "But you still fell for me."

"It was never about what you say that made me fall for you." She smiles, burying her head onto the crook of his neck, her pink lips touching his sensitive skin. "It's always been about everything you made me feel, with everything you did."

She slides her hand away from his, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him even more closer to her – if that was possible. She grips the shoulders of his tux, inhaling in his scent of fresh sweat and vodka, before continuing on to speak.

"With every little touch, I fall even harder for you."

_**xoxo**_

They're finally on their way to Vegas, passing through each neon colored city with tall skyscrapers and bright city lights. And they're driving through dark tunnels and long way highways, with the music blaring loud in his old beat-up chevy truck.

She's in the back, lay sprawled and sleeping soundless, wrapped up in his favorite leather jacket. She snores lightly but he doesn't hear, the soundtrack of his life playing stuck on repeat, and he sings along.

_I had a dream la__st night we, drove out to see Las Vegas / We lost ourselves in the bright ligh__ts, I wish you could've seen us_

He takes a small glance at his rear-view mirror, watching her as she sleeps. Her back goes up and down, indicating that she was breathing heavily.

And he stops the car at a late night diner nearby. He gets out, feeling the sudden attack of the cool air, shivering without his jacket. But he doesn't mind – or care at all – as long as she's okay. And before he makes his way to get them food, he stares at her through the dirty old window of his car, smiling as he sees her cuddle into the hard leather seat.

"I promise you Alls, we'll get to Vegas in no time."

His hot breath turns the window foggy, and rain started to pour. He looks up to see the stars missing, and then looks back down at the lighter in his hands. Smiling faintly, he tosses it to the ground, along with the full packet of cigarette that's been decaying in his pocket. And for the first time since he lost to his failed tries and doubts, he felt like he had hope.

_**xoxo**_

They're in the city of their dreams, playing cards and winning coins. She's shouting at him to roll the dice, and later she'll hear him cheering her on over the loud crashing of coins.

People were crazy, getting drunk and smoking weed. But he holds onto her tight, never letting her out of his sight; never letting her go. He swears to protect her – a promise he's willing to keep. Because she's so small and innocent, compared to the big, bad scary world. And she's thinking, he's the crazy one.

But they're winning big and having the time of their lives under the bright neon lights of Las Vegas. With each set of dice he rolls a hard eight, and every card she picks hitting her a win. And that's when she knows, they're made for each other – Lady Luck already made it clear.

So she drags him out of his game, right before they win the big one, and he's confused, shocked, and slightly angry.

"Why?" He asks nonchalantly, trying to keep his annoyance to himself.

"I realized that, we've done so much together." She says, biting her lip, tucking in fallen strands of her hair behind her ear. His gaze on her softens. "You were the guy I found smoking at the roof of our school, wasting his life away because he gave up on trying. You were that same guy I had to carry around drunk, because he couldn't find his best friend to give him a ride home at a party I was never supposed to be at."

"I know." He sighs out loud, not really knowing where she was going. But she's holding his hand tight, tighter than ever, and he knows he should listen because he can swear on his life this will be worth listening to.

"You were the guy that made me try my first cigarette. Heck, we shared cigarettes! And you're that guy I danced with at prom because my date stood me up, and that guy I danced with again, drunk, at my house, because the night was too good to waste away sleeping." Her cheeks were burning red, and there's that little determined glare dancing around her eyes. "And you promised me Vegas, and we're here in Vegas, and I don't know what we are!"

"Ally—"

"Are we always just ever going to be best friends? Or are we meant for something more, Austin? What about those late night song writing sessions where we almost kissed? Or the little friendly hugs that lasted longer than it should have? What about me never going out with any boy, and you never hooking up with girls anymore? Huh?! What about that I—" She stops talking, and it's not because he's crashed his lips onto hers; no – that would be too cliché. But he's hugging her tight, face buried into the crook of her neck, smelling her fresh vanilla scent.

"It's pretty obvious who we are to each other's lives." He whispers into her hair, and her neck feels the warmth of his breath fanning over her sensitive skin. "I'm sure that you and I know that we've never been _just friends_ right from the start."

"But you—"

"Our relationship isn't ordinary. We were partners, best friends; always been there for each other, always will be there for each other. You know I love you and I know you love me too." He pulls away, his golden whiskey eyes locking with her coffee ones. Her breath hitches and he leans in just a little bit too close. "We don't need labels, and we don't need to call ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. Because you already know, I love you more than life itself."

He's cheesy, she admits, but she pulls him in for a kiss anyway. And right there, she tastes it. She tastes the flavor of nicotine from their shared cigarettes, and the bitter taste of beer from their drunken dancing. She doesn't feel sparks, or fireworks, but she feels the flutter of butterflies – and she's sure this is how it's really meant to be. His tongue was salty, like the rain covered chippy she ate a few days ago on their journey to Vegas. And she can hear the clash of coins, the shuffling of cards, and the rolling of dices because it was all around her. And it's the perfect melody to her.

Because this was her first kiss. He was her first kiss. And it's as bitter as the first time they met, and as sweet as when she promised him she'd save him. It's the kind of kiss that tells a story, one that could bring back even the smallest forgotten memory. It's their kiss. Their first kiss.

And they didn't need the sparks, or the fireworks, or the explosions; no. Those are make-believe lies, non-existent placebos people have made-up to make romance more exciting. She knows this is real, because she's standing in the middle of a casino, kissing her long time best friend, Austin Monica Moon, and there's not a thing in the world right now that felt wrong about this.

Because they're Austin and Ally; no labels attached, no titles given, no nothing. It's just him and her, and an unusual story to tell.

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**A/N:** Please leave a review, it would be highly appreciated! And check out my other fanfictions too if you have time. I love you all so take care, and appreciate Laura Marano :) And the song I used is "Jamie All Over" by Mayday Parade :D


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